like a banana cream pie
in the face. But it wasn’t sweet! It stung
as Mace. And I was blind from the chase.

He hit me
like a hickory stick
falling from the sky like
a ton of bricks. I wore the welts
shiny as the buckle in his belt.

He hit me
like a Mack truck. I didn’t
duck. So, I wear the tracks. Now I’m flat
upon my back.